


Mourned

by redboarambo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redboarambo/pseuds/redboarambo
Summary: When Insomnia fell, Prompto had thought of all the people that had been lost with their city. All of the lives that had been taken for this senseless war, the parents and kids; the teachers and students; the young and the old. It hurt his heart to even think about, and when he saw it first hand? When he saw the way that it hurt his friends? When Gladio nearly cried when he heard at least his sister had made it? When Noctis had broken down after the news of his father’s death? Watching Ignis wait, hoping to hear from an uncle that never did call again? It was too much.-In which Prompto thought his parents died in the attack, but they ended up surviving-





	Mourned

When Insomnia fell, Prompto had thought of all the people that had been lost with their city. All of the lives that had been taken for this senseless war, the parents and kids; the teachers and students; the young and the old. It hurt his heart to even think about, and when he saw it first hand? When he saw the way that it hurt his friends? When Gladio nearly cried when he heard at least his sister had made it? When Noctis had broken down after the news of his father’s death? Watching Ignis wait, hoping to hear from an uncle that never did call again? It was too much.

Prompto knew that he should have been one of the people mourning. His own parents had never called, but he felt… detached. They had hardly been around while he was growing up, and a part of him wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear from them. That didn’t stop the random thoughts from seeping in, making him tear up when he thought about them. They may not have been the best parents, but they were kind when they were there. The days they were around, they were always gentle and nice and there for him when no one else was.

 

He cried for them.

Mourned.

It wasn’t as heartbreaking as the others, but it happened.

Maybe that was why, when he spotted familiar heads of hair in Lestallum, he couldn’t believe that it was really them. It took a few minutes of staring, of Ignis asking him what was wrong, before he swallowed and finally made his way over towards the two people that he had been with since before he could remember. It took several times of calling their names, first just calling Mom and Dad before using their actual names, before they turned around.

The look on their face didn’t register at first to the blonde. They were there and that was all he cared about. If you had asked anyone else, someone that wasn’t influenced by the situation, it would have been obvious that the look on their face went from confusion to panic to resignation. It was only after the last one that they responded to the calls. They didn’t walk closer, no, but they did stop moving.

Ignis was close by, and while he couldn’t hear what was being said, he could tell that it wasn’t going well. Prompto had taken out his phone and waved it around for a moment, his voice loud and happy, only to falter when his father opened his mouth.

The older man watched as their blonde friend lost the smile, his entire body seemingly wilting, the expression on his face one of hurt. Confusion. Doubt. Betrayal. 

It only lasted ten minutes.

Ten minutes before Prompto wished he had never left the hotel room.

Moving back over to Ignis, the expression on the blonde’s face had went flat. When he asked what had happened, the laugh that slipped from his mouth was humorless.

“They didn’t lose my number. They just didn’t care enough to get back in touch with me. They wished me the best, and said they were happy I was still alive, but they didn’t want to be contacted anymore. This is their ‘fresh start’ they said.” Again, Prompto laughed, his hand raising to rub at his face.

“I guess my parents died in Insomnia too.”

At least, that was how it felt.

Those weren’t his parents.

Those were strangers. Strangers he had thought he was closer to. Strangers that he had cared for, had mourned, had tried to call. Strangers that wore the faces of people he loved at one point, faces of people he thought had at least cared for him too.

He was wrong.

Prompto was always wrong.


End file.
